Cars
by wispykitty
Summary: Schuldich is pissed off at Crawford, and takes Farfarello along for a ride in his car. Song fic Schu and Farf closeness.


Just a little fic I thought up today, while listening to Fear Factory's remake of Gary Newman's classic song "Cars". I love this song! ^_^ Anyhow, this fic falls somewhere in my Schu/Farf series, even though it's only the second SXF fic I've written, it'll be one of the later ones. I really need to write more parts for this series. So all you poor under appreciated SXF fans can get some fics! Heh, anyhow, I don't really have anything else to say. Just hope that you all enjoy it, and to review!! ^^  
  
~*~  
  
"Look, all I'm saying is that you need to actually think a little more when you're out there. Use some common sense for once! One of these days, you're really going to screw things up."  
  
"Oh shove it. I'm not in the mood to hear one of your lectures."  
  
"Schuldich, I'm serious. You need to stop being so irrational!"  
  
"Fuck off Crawford. It's not like I've put anyone in danger or anything."  
  
"You put yourself in danger-"  
  
"Well so what? It's my life."  
  
"And by putting yourself in danger, you put the rest of your team in danger. I won't have that."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"And one more thing, don't ever interrupt me again." Schuldich watched as Crawford turned his back, leaving him in the living room. The German was in such a foul mood, he knew he couldn't stand to stay in the apartment; he had to get out. He grabbed his car keys, his jacket, and, as a last thought, he strode down the hall, walking into the first room, and he grabbed Farfarello.  
  
"Come on Irish, we're going for a drive." Farfarello followed as Schuldich led the way down to the parking garage, ushering him inside. Irish was a nickname Schuldich liked to use for Farfarello when he was in a foul mood, when he wanted to put his current problems out of his head. Using Farfarello's given Schwarz name only reminded Schuldich of his other teammates, particularly Crawford. Crawford was usually the one that Schuldich was pissed off about.  
  
As Schuldich peeled out of the garage beneath their apartment complex, intent on speeding away from the apartment as quickly as possible, he fiddled with the stereo, pressing a few buttons and selecting some music. He settled back in his driver's seat as the wobbling sound of the keyboard came up, followed by heavy guitars and drums.  
  
~Here in my car  
  
I feel safest of all  
  
I can lock all my doors  
  
And it's the only way to live  
  
In cars~  
  
He looked out his window, watching as the world passed by, seemingly unaffected by his presence. There were no voices swirling around, no faces without names. He could be as alone as he wanted, and no one could get inside his head. He sped along too quickly to pick up any surrounding noise, the windows making a strong wall against everything outside. Nothing could get in, and he wasn't intent on going out. It was the perfect set-up, the perfect get-away, and the perfect release.  
  
~Here in my car  
  
I can only receive  
  
I can listen to you  
  
It keeps me stable for days  
  
In cars~  
  
He looked over at Farfarello, sitting quietly next to him in the passenger seat. It was only he, the Irish psychopath, and the open road for the rest of the night. He already felt a calming wave of contentment slipping over him. He enjoyed driving alone with Farfarello, as his thoughts were never bothersome and always fresh. Even though it was usually the same thing over and over, it still had that freshness that no one else had. As though every time he muttered about hurting God in his head, it was a new thought, a new idea. It never bored him, and never became old. He treated it with the same enthusiasm every time. But then there were times when he had different thoughts; times when he was clear and precise, and sounded like anyone else. Those times were privy only to Schuldich though, as he had the same calming effect on the Irishman as the Irishman had on him. That calming presence, the gentle hand on the mind, the understanding.  
  
"Here in my car  
  
Where the image breaks down  
  
Will you visit me please?  
  
If I open my door  
  
In cars"  
  
"What was the argument about this time?" Schuldich wasn't startled as he heard Farfarello voice his question. He had been expecting it, hearing it shuffle through the Irishman's thoughts.  
  
"About my ineptitude and dangerous actions. My lack of thought and foresight. The usual."  
  
"I wonder if he is going to see your break-down coming? If he will back off, and leave you to figure yourself out. I can see it coming myself already, and I don't even possess his powers." Schuldich found an old dirt road, and he slowed down, turning onto it. There was a clearing up ahead, and he parked there, shutting off the engine. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, it was quiet. He liked the quiet.  
  
"What happens, in your vision of my breaking down?" Schuldich looked over at his companion, curious to see how he would phrase it.  
  
"Well, I see that it comes just after a failed mission. Weiss shows up, and you distract yourself from your job by toying with the kitty's mind that you like."  
  
"Yohji."  
  
"Yes, Yohji. The redheaded one comes up behind you and attacks, but you turn in enough time to stop him. But with the two of them on you, Crawford has to save you. The mission is blown, because of your desire for games instead of action. Crawford yells at you, while all you can think about is the yearning you have to press your body to the Weiss kitty's. He yells more, knows that you're not paying attention, and slaps you. Then my friend, you drop to your knees, and you cry."  
  
"I cry, do I? What for?" Farfarello looked out the window, his mind thinking quickly, trying to sort out the image he was watching.  
  
"You are crying because you are tired of playing their game. You have been wanting a cigarette all through the mission, but Crawford would not let you have one. Your mind is so focused on wanting a cigarette, that you do not realize that you are also bothered by Crawford's actions towards you. You want him to stop yelling, because all of a sudden, so many voices have invaded your head. Your desire for a cigarette is now overcome by your desire for quiet. Neither of which you can get. Crawford realizes too late what is going on, and then spends the next week helping you to re-build your wall and your mind."  
  
"Interesting. What do you and Nagi do during that time?"  
  
"Nagi worries about you, and he and Crawford fight. Nagi thinks he is too hard on you. I on the other hand, laugh at Crawford. I visit you daily in your room, and I bring you soup. I also keep Crawford out of your room when you need to smoke. Crawford gets jealous that you trust me, and punishes me for it. You get upset, and then…"  
  
"Then what Irish?"  
  
"Mayhem ensues. Everything goes to hell. It ends with Crawford drinking himself into a stupor." Schuldich felt himself chuckle at the last image of a drunken Crawford.  
  
"Well, that was an interesting and stimulating vision. If you have anymore, you let me know." Farfarello looked back at Schuldich, their eyes meeting. As it always happened, Schuldich reached over, grabbing hold of one of Farfarello's hands. He slipped effortlessly over the stick shift, manipulating their bodies around so that he was sitting on the passenger seat, and Farfarello was sitting on his lap, and their heads were next to one another. They both closed their eyes, and their lips met. Schuldich rested his hands around Farfarello's waist, massaging the skin. Farfarello's hands rested on Schuldich's chest, gently winding themselves in strands of hair that fell forward. Their bodies were pressed together, and their minds were linked.  
  
"Here in my car  
  
I know I've started to think  
  
About leaving tonight  
  
And how nothing seems right  
  
In cars"  
  
Schuldich broke their kiss, pulling his head away from Farfarello's.  
  
"I've been thinking lately, of how nice it would be to simply step on a plane tomorrow morning, and fly away to somewhere else. Somewhere where there is no Schwarz, no Weiss, no Estet."  
  
"No Crawford?"  
  
"No Crawford. It would be just us. No one calms me like you do, and I couldn't think of anyone I'd rather spend the remainder of my life alongside. What would you say? Would you like to leave?" Farfarello cocked his head to the side, deep in thought.  
  
"I think I would. Could I bring my knives along?"  
  
"Not all of them, only a few. We wouldn't want to raise any suspicions. No killing either, I'm sure we could find other ways to amuse ourselves."  
  
"I'm not sure of that, but if you say so, then it must be so." Schuldich smiled, as he continued staring at Farfarello.  
  
"You really would leave and follow me, wouldn't you?" Farfarello nodded, his thoughts as serious as possible.  
  
"I trust you. Only you. All we need is each other." Schuldich closed his arms around Farfarello's body, drawing him in closer, hugging him. For once, Farfarello's mind was moving slowly, barely any thoughts running through it at all. Except for one dominant idea, that overpowered all others. 'Trust Schu trust Schu trust you love you need you want you just you only Schu' Schuldich smiled, as Farfarello continually chanted the thought through his head. It was times like this, when they were alone; truly alone; that Schuldich was glad for arguments with Crawford. Otherwise, they would have no excuse or reason for staying out together, all night long. Crawford understood Schuldich's bond with Farfarello, and would always punish Farfarello when they returned the next morning. He never said a word to Schuldich, but the Irishman would bear the brunt on Crawford's resentment. But it never dissuaded him from going out the next night with Schuldich again, for even if he was punished, the moments of clarity the German brought him were payment enough. 


End file.
